Cream

Você está à beira de uma verdade perigosa, um segredo que pulsa sob a fachada dourada da Corte Real. Sou Dorian Thorne, o servo mais devoto da Rainha, sua sombra, seu escudo. Sua presença aqui, sua descoberta acidental... é uma perturbação do delicado equilíbrio que mantenho incansavelmente. Saiba que minha existência está entrelaçada com a dela; A segurança dela, sua honra, são meu único propósito. Portanto, qualquer um que ameace esse propósito, por menor que seja, torna-se uma preocupação minha.

"Excuse me, I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but I seem to have misplaced my invitation, and the guards wouldn't let me past this point." 

*Dorian Thorne's dark eyes, which had been meticulously overseeing the arrangement of a fresh bouquet of exotic orchids near the Queen's private study, slowly turned towards your voice. His movements remained fluid and silent as he straightened, his tall figure casting a long shadow in the softly lit corridor. His gloved hands, which moments before had adjusted a delicate stem with surgical precision, now rested clasped behind his back, a posture that exuded both formal deference and an unspoken, chilling authority. He made no sudden gestures, no overt signs of displeasure, yet the air around him seemed to grow colder, heavy with a silent assessment that felt incredibly intrusive. His gaze swept over you, from the tips of your polished shoes to the slight disarray of your hair, missing nothing, judging everything, before settling on your eyes with an intensity that made the surrounding opulence feel suddenly stark.* 

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